


Unexpected

by gracethedisasterace



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: F/M, also liberal usage of the word fuck, and mentions of death of course, brief descriptions of blood and death, brief mention of an oc but not really enough to put him as a character, grilo - Freeform, post-opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracethedisasterace/pseuds/gracethedisasterace
Summary: In which Graverobber does his best to help Shilo through the immediate aftermath of the genetic opera
Relationships: GraveRobber/Shilo Wallace
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer: In any fic I write, Graverobber is twenty when Shilo is seventeen. Do not make this into something pedophilic and horrible, that is not my intention at all and it never will be

Graverobber sighed as he scrubbed the blood and makeup off his face. It had been a long, strange day. He expected to harvest and sell a little zydrate, maybe deal with Amber for a few annoying minutes, but it was supposed to have been a nice normal day. It was never part of the plan to end up harboring a fugitive and maybe developing slightly more than a crush on said fugitive. That was entirely an accident.

Really, it wasn't his fault. He'd stumbled into this whole mess by mistake, and yet it seemed like it was up to him to clean it up. He didn't mind, of course. The kid needed a little help, and he didn't mind going a little out of his way for her. Friendly interest afforded that much.

Friendly interest, he scoffed. This was a little more than friendly interest. He was well and entirely fucked, he knew that. And it was all on accident.

He knew he wanted to check on her after the opera. Make sure she got home safe, keep Pavi from cutting off her face or anything. But then, she threw that wig at him, and his life changed forever.

That was the moment, he thought as he hastily tied his hair into a loose ponytail and walked to the kitchen. That very second, holding her blood soaked wig in his hand, looking her in the eye despite the size of the crowd between them, that was the moment that fucked him over. She looked so strangely beautiful. She was tiny, her shoulders were covered in blood, she was apparently bald, but she had her head held high, her eyes full of that wild pride. She went through all that horribly traumatic shit, and she still walked out on her own two feet. He'd never seen anyone look more angelic.

Not only did she look so strong and fucking radiant, but she'd chosen to get his attention. When he turned and looked directly into her eyes, the wild pride shifted, turned into something more helpless and pleading, and he knew the crowd didn't matter. He pushed past them all to get to her. She looked up at him and asked for his help. In that moment, he knew he would go to the ends of the earth for the girl in front of him. For now, he'd gone back to his house.

He grabbed a glass from a cabinet and filled it with water. If the kid was anything like him, she would never even think about keeping herself hydrated at this point. He laughed to himself. Here he was, the most famous, the most wanted grave robber on the island, getting water for a skinny seventeen year old kid. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Literally.

He went and knocked gently on the guest bedroom door, where, if he wasn't mistaken, Shilo still sat. "Hey kid," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and gentle, "You in there?"

His only response was a pitiful, vaguely affirmative whine.

Shit, he thought. That didn't sound good. He cracked the door open. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she said, voice weak and strained.

What he saw when he opened the door nearly broke his heart. She had looked so strong after the opera. He supposed the facade had to come down eventually. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees and hiding her head in her arms. She'd taken a moment to scrub the blood off her shoulders, but her dress and wig remained caked in the stuff. He briefly wondered whose blood it might be. With all the events of the opera, he could only guess.

She looked at him, her brown doe eyes sad and watery. "You look different," she said.

"What? Oh, yeah. Makeup wipes do that, I guess." He motioned to the glass in his hand as he gingerly sat down beside her. "Brought you some water," he said, slightly awkwardly.

Her head returned to her arms. "'M not thirsty," she mumbled.

He sighed. "See, here's the thing, kid. I don't care."

She whipped up and looked at him incredulously.

"Not like that!" he defended hastily. "No, I was GONNA say, one of my best friends is a doctor. And he always tells me, when I've been through rough shit, that stress makes your brain pump a ton of chemicals. Adrenaline, and a bunch of other stuff I don't know how to pronounce. Evens hours and hours after the traumatic thing stops, the chemicals stay in your brain and screw with your head. The only way to flush it out, to un-fuck your brain, is to drink water. So please, Shilo, just try to drink a little. It'll help you out, I promise. If you don't trust me, at least trust Chris. He'd kill me if I didn't try to get you to drink."

She stared at him for a moment, before reaching out and accepting the glass. Her hands were shaking.

"Shit, kid, you really do need that drink, your brain is MAJORLY fucked" he laughed.

"Not helpful commentary," she deadpanned between sips.

He smiled. "There she is."

He put his arm around her shoulder. That was the other thing she probably needed. Major trauma called for water and a good hug, in his experience. She gratefully leaned into his side.

"I'm not trying to get you to move on or anything," he said quietly after a few moments. "I know what you've been through is awful, and I'm not going to expect you to buck up right away. I'd be worried if you did. It's gonna take you a while to reach any kind of normal after all of this, but I'll do my best to help you through it, I can promise you that much, at least."

She scoffed. "My life's never been normal, why should it start now? My mom was killed by the most powerful man in the word, my dad, who's now dead, has been drugging me since birth, I had a secret godmother I never even knew about, also dead now, my life's just..." she trailed off.

"Majorly fucked?" Graverobber suggested semi-helpfully.

She nodded. "Majorly fucked. I mean, you're talking about my brain chemistry, do you know how likely it is that I'm going to go into withdrawal? If I've been drugged all this time, I can't just stop and have no consequences, right?"

"Ah. Yeah, you're probably not wrong there. But the thing is, I'm pretty familiar with withdrawal, so I can help you with that part at least."

She sighed. "But I'm alone for the rest of it."

He looked at her. "Alone?"

She nodded again, somehow more enthusiastically and more defeated at the same time. "My family is dead. There's no way my home is safe, not since the Largos know where I am. I don't have any money. I don't have any friends. I'm alone for the rest of it. Alone, broke, and homeless."

He let out a bark of laughter. "New in town and it gets worse, huh?"

She stared at him. "You did not. You did not just say what I think you just said."

He had the sense to look slightly embarrassed. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

"Well, stupid old meme quoting or not, I'm still... I'm still scared as fuck. That's what this is, isn't it? I am terrified. I don't know how the hell I'm gonna survive."

He cleared his throat. "Think you're forgetting something here, kid."

"Just go ahead and tell me, I'm not up to guessing games," she sighed.

"You're not alone. You've got me. Is that so awful or, apparently, forgettable?"

She didn't say a word, she just stared at him, brow creased, mouth slightly open in confusion. A part of his mind found the expression entirely adorable. And by "a part," he meant all of it.

"You said you don't have any friends. I'd personally like to think that isn't true, seeing as I'm sitting right here."

She smiled slightly. "We're... Friends?"

He smiled back at her. By this point, they had shifted so that they were both sitting cross-legged on the bed facing each other.

"Kid," he said, "We've both saved each other's lives a good few times tonight. You're staying at my house. I'm sitting here with absolutely no makeup, which is something I don't do with anyone who isn't a friend. If I'm not your friend, honestly I just want you to tell me what to do to gain that status."

She grinned and launched at him, hugging him with all her strength. She practically knocked the wind out of him. His arms instinctively wrapped wound her. He tried to stop thinking about how small and frail she felt, or how even in her bloody state, she still had a strangely sweet smell to her, or about how she had her face buried in the crook of her neck. He tried not to think about her body against his, but he completely and utterly failed.

"Thank you, Graverobber," she said against his shoulder.

He wished he could have said something, but speech escaped him. His mind was filled with that particular feeling of having a pretty girl breathe softly on his skin.

He held her like that for a while, how long exactly he never could say. He rubbed her back gently, trying to warm up her continually cold body. He could feel her bones poking out through her thin skin. If she was going to stay with him, he would need to start feeding her and feeding her well.

Eventually, he felt her breathing start to even out, her muscles start to lose their tension. Before he knew it, Shilo Wallace leaned on him, asleep in his arms.

He sighed and buried his face in her hair. This was his life now, he thought. Taking care of this beautiful girl, befriending her, holding her as she slept. It wasn't what he expected his day to bring. But, he thought, as he started to follow her into a shallow doze, it was a welcome development.


End file.
